jump on the wind's back
by moon strut
Summary: "I don't need wings to fly." / Eren and Levi, with storms in their eyes. —eren


**notes:** i have sold my soul to snk and ereri. and so, to commemorate my sixth-year anniversary on ffnet, i have decided to write something quick, yay.  
also, yes, that is a peter pan quote. sort of.

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_when you realize how perfect everything is _

_you will tilt your head back and laugh at the sky_

(**shakyamuni**)

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**jump on the wind's back**  
_—and away we go_

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Levi doesn't understand why the kid would sometimes entrance himself, hooded eyes glazed over, as he tilts his head far back to watch the clouds go by high in the sky. Nor does he really care to know why. But then Eren would stay that way for many moments at a time, and the minutes will tick by unbeknownst to them both.

And usually, Levi wouldn't bother sauntering over to (literally) kick him out of his reverie, but then it happens on a particularly sunny, clear day.

Eren pauses in his lethargic sweeping to throw back his head, brown hair flying, taking in the big blue above. The broom drops, forgotten, on the floor. Levi blinks and contemplates a number of ways to break his dream-like world, reflected in those childish green eyes. He opts to call for him, as it would use the least amount of energy.

"Oi, Eren," but the shitty brat doesn't hear him. And Levi thinks, maybe this is a normal thing for idiots to do. But then, Eren surprises him for a second time that day, when he suddenly spins on his heels, lifts his arms, and whispers:

_"I want to fly."_

Levi blinks, like he's bored, like he's heard this shit before, and drawls, "Why is that."

When Eren finally looks down back to Earth, back to the world, back to Levi, the wind seems to still, and all is quiet. "I want to see all of it."

"All of what," he wonders why he keeps humoring him, the cheeky bastard. Levi leans against the wall and waits, watches.

The answer that follows is plain, simple, and expected. "The world."

_Of course_.

"I wish I had wings," Eren muses, finally dropping his arms, and it's as if all of him drops back down, like he was already flying (except he wasn't).

"Then you'd be a real monster, brat." The harsh reality of the world is daunting, and it shows in Eren's face, twisted into unpleasant, dream-crushing frowns and scowls. He's always bad at hiding his emotions, not like a true soldier. _(But then, what does make a true soldier?)_

Eren laughs. It's quick and sarcastic and impertinent, but still, he laughs, with a fraction of a smile. Levi watches him with hardened stares and a face unchanging; smiles are quite rare these days.

"I'm already half way there," he starts, glancing down at the cracks in the ground, at the clouds of dust floating by his feet. "Why not go the whole mile?"

Levi doesn't know why, but he almost takes that bitter tone of his to heart. "Fucking idiot," he scoffs, looking away, but it doesn't make him feel any better.

"It's easy for you, Corporal," comes Eren's hushed words, looking at him with storms in his eyes. "You already have your wings."

Levi blinks, slowly, but doesn't say anything, not a sound.

Eren goes on. "Your wings are already so big and broad," he motions with arms. "Whenever I see you fly, it's just so beautiful," he pauses, arms falling, eyes lowering, heart sinking. "And yet so scary, because when you're up there, it feels like I can't reach you." Fifty something emotions pass through his eyes, watery and green and full of poison.

Levi sighs, still says nothing, but trudges over, carefully. The dirt crunches uncomfortably beneath his boots. He pauses before him, the boy damaged beyond repair, in fragments held together only by deeply threaded bonds with friends who have not yet died. Eren Jaeger, the boy who has the title of 'humanity's hope' and other pretty, dolled-up words forcibly plastered to his very soul.

And so, Levi grabs the back of the kid's head with a grip that is less than tender, does not dare look into those shell-shocked irises full of wonder, and roughly pulls Eren's bewildered face down into his shoulder, draped in green.

"Levi, I—"

"Stop talking, Eren," his voice is firm and resolute. The hand cradling his head slides down to the base of his neck and squeezes lightly. "That's an order."

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The first time they kiss, it almost seems like an accident, a mere result of clumsy footwork, unexpected lip touches, and unfortunate positions. The 'barely-kiss' lasts not three seconds, and then Eren babbles mindless apologies and excuses before disappearing down the hall in a hurry.

Levi pays no mind to it.

The second time they kiss is more straightforward, honest, and laced with guilt. It is a dark evening, at the usual table, with just the two of them. The kiss is, again, short-lived and sloppy, as expected of an inexperienced fifteen-year-old in times of war. But unlike the first time, there is no hiding, no running away. Eren drops his head to the table, buries his face with the sleeves of his shirt, and peers up at Levi with one insecure eye.

"Care to explain yourself?" he says, calmly, taking a sip of his coffee.

Eren stills and lifts his head slightly, eyelids hooded like he's dreaming. "I'm sorry, I just felt like doing that."

The room goes silent for a while.

Then, Levi sighs and sets the porcelain cup down. With one hand, he seizes Eren's face, forcefully dragging him forward so that their lips are centimeters apart, and they share the same air.

"Still feel like doing it?" His voice is low, coaxing and dangerous, gaze never leaving the green Bambi eyes opposite his. "Audacious brat," is added as a half a whisper, half a scoff.

"No, sir," is Eren's answer, voice wavering but starry-eyed expression still unfaltering.

Levi's eyes shift down to his pale, parted lips and back up before casually remarking, "Liar."

When he kisses him again, harder and longer, Eren forgets how to breathe.

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He still does it. That thing where he stops so suddenly, and the breezes seem to still, and the clouds just fade away. He tilts his face to the endless sea in the sky, breathing in rhythmic motions, like there's nothing else in the world to do.

"Eren," Levi warns, crossing his arms and watching from afar.

He comes back faster this time, twirling around with the broom in his clutches. Slowly, he sweeps again and, with furrowed brows, ponders a thought, "I don't need wings to fly."

Levi waits. Eren continues, absently cleaning the same spot on the ground over and over and over again.

"After all, I already have you."

Levi blinks, stares up at the cloudless sky, and wonders what madness goes through the kid's (probably) demented mind, day in and day out.

"So, Corporal," Eren begins, holding back a grin full of excitement. It shows in his eyes anyway. "Teach me how to fly?"

A moment passes by. And then another.

Levi looks away from the blue, away from the world, and into greengreen_green_. He finally complies.

"Okay."

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No matter how many times he secretly tries, nothing ever happens. The wind does not pause for him; the clouds do not part for him; the world does not show itself to him, not like it does for Eren.

Still, he tries. Levi tries, head thrown back, black hair flying.

He could hear Eren mocking him now, for even attempting something so deranged, so moonstruck, like it's not something for sane people to do. _(Then again, who ever said he was sane?) _

"Oi, shitty brat," he starts, looking down at him _(or was it up?)_. "You said you were scared, right? When it feels like you can't reach me."

Eren doesn't say anything, so he continues.

"How do you think I feel?" He stares, furiously, into his glassy green eyes, lackluster, no longer seeing. "You're always going places I can't reach."

Levi squeezes the Scouting Legion emblem in his hand, stained with red, and swallows all the 'what could have been's, digging them graves in his heart. Levi hates it. He hates not knowing, never knowing, like a tempestuous hurricane of questions without answers.

Why didn't you.

Why didn't I.

Why didn't we.

Why.

Why.

**Why.**

And then, everything goes silent, stands still, stops spinning, in the eye of the storm.

"You told me you didn't need wings to fly," voice barely audible, a harsh whisper.

The white sheets go on, and the carts set off towards home.

"You liar."

—and the storm starts all over again.

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_I don't need wings to fly._

_.__  
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_I just need you._


End file.
